Spirit of Christmas
by susieq666
Summary: A very lightweight little one-shot, as it's that time of year! A slightly forlorn Horatio has an oddly uplifting encounter with a beggar.


SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS

Horatio's footfalls echoed as he walked across the empty reception area. The desk was deserted. The big Christmas tree was still lit – he thought it looked slightly forlorn, sparkling and glittering, with no one to see it. He mentally kicked himself for being so maudlin.

It was full dark outside… late. He had said goodbye to the last of his team at the nearby bar. It was a mixed blessing, going out for a drink with them. Not that he objected to the time. Or the cost. He enjoyed the feeling of 'family'. It was simply that he felt duty bound to limit the alcohol, since they would all be driving home. Offers of taxis were rejected as 'all our cars will be in the wrong place'. He doubted anyone would be in trouble, even if they were pulled over. There was an unwritten courtesy between police departments, with a blind eye being turned to minor infringements. Even so, he dreaded any of them having an accident, and there would be plenty of other drinkers on the streets on Christmas Eve.

"Lieutenant…"

The guard's greeting made him jump, as the man came up with the keys to the main door.

"You drew the short straw then," he murmured.

The guard chuckled. "Not really. I've got tomorrow at home with the kids. You're working late…"

"No. Just left something behind." He indicated the gift-wrapped parcel in his hand.

The guard let him out, and he heard the door being relocked behind him. He pulled in a deep breath of surprisingly chilly air, and walked slowly down the steps. He felt depression creeping up. He didn't really mind being on his own for Christmas. In fact, he'd chosen it. He'd turned down invitations from both Alexx and Yelina. He supposed it was his age, but the enforced jollity didn't sit well with him anymore. And Yelina had a new man in her life, and he didn't enjoy watching them. So he was alone.

The street was quiet, although he heard distant sounds of partying somewhere. He walked towards his car.

"Spare some change, Mister?"

A quiet female voice made him jump. Again. _You need to wake up, man. _He looked round, startled to see a young woman sitting on the steps of the lab. He frowned. He was sure she hadn't been there as he'd walked down a few seconds before. And it was a strange place to beg.

Miami had its share of beggars, of course, but here? Not only was the place next to deserted at this time of the evening, but begging was illegal, and this was, after all, a police facility.

He walked back and looked down at her. She was young, probably no more than a teenager. Pretty, in a way. A bit grubby, from living rough. Unusually, he couldn't detect the sour odor of unwashed clothes and sweat… In fact, she seemed to smell faintly of flowers. And she had none of the sick, emaciated look of a user.

"You shouldn't be here, love," he said gently.

"You going to arrest me?"

He smiled. "No, but you won't find many people round here." For a brief moment, his suspicious nature got the better of him, and he wondered if he was being set up – he was a clear target for a shot, silhouetted against the crime lab door.

"I found you."

"You did." His instincts gave him no sense of danger. He sat down on the step beside her. "What's your name?"

"Mary."

"Do you have somewhere to stay, Mary?"

"On Christmas Eve? You're joking." She looked at him, her head on one side. "You've got very blue eyes."

"And very red hair. Don't change the subject. What if I could get you in somewhere?"

"No. I'll be fine. It's not that cold."

He looked into her clear brown eyes. "How did you get to this, Mary?"

"Same old story. You're a policeman, aren't you?"

Horatio nodded.

"Then you'll have heard it hundreds of time. Family stuff. Father who liked his daughter a bit too much. So I left." She shrugged. "It's not that bad."

"I'm not sure I believe that."

"There _are_ bad families, you know…"

"Oh, I know that. What about your Mom?"

"She's gone."

"Dead?"

She nodded.

"Please, let me try and find you a bed. I can pull a few strings…"

"No! I don't want you to. Just… enough to get something to eat… I'm not looking for a five-course dinner."

With a sigh, he pulled out his wallet. His offer of a fifty was met with a laugh.

"I can't change that. Everyone'll think I stole it."

He pushed the bill back. "I'm not sure I've got much change…" But he found thirty dollars in small bills and some loose change. "Any good?"

"You bet."

"It's not going straight into some dealer's pocket, is it?"

"I don't do drugs." She scowled, but it quickly turned to a smile. She reached over and took his hand, lifted it and planted a kiss in the palm. Her lips were dry and warm. Again, the smell of flowers… "You're a sweet man."

"'Sweet'? Hardly. The Christmas spirit must have got to me." He looked at parcel on his lap. "Here, take this."

"What is it?"

"Just a fleece. I was going to give it to a… friend… but I've been hesitating… I was debating what to do with it. Now I know."

"Wow, I haven't had a Christmas present for… ages."

"Well, now you have. Happy Christmas." He got to his feet. "Can I give you a lift anywhere?"

"No, I'm good."

"All right. Mary, take care, yes? I don't want to find your name on my desk among the homicides."

"No chance."

He began to walk to his car, shaking his head slightly at her stubborn independence. If he'd learned one thing, it was that you can't make people's decisions for them.

"Happy Christmas, Horatio."

He spun round, to ask how she knew his name. She had gone. He looked up and down the street. Nothing. He unlocked his car and got in, realising, with a brief smile, that he no longer felt depressed. He switched the radio on, and hummed along to a Christmas carol as he drove home.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY FAITHFUL READERS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND COMMENTS OVER THE YEAR.


End file.
